Why I Love Going to Funerals

It’s not morbid. Nothing connects me to the power of life more than a funeral.

Last night I went to a stunning wedding and witnessed a young couple embark on a life together built upon Jewish values and tradition. I was moved and it was beautiful. But this morning I went to a funeral and it transformed me, leaving me with a burning desire to improve and develop myself.

Nothing makes me want to grow, change and improve more than a funeral.

And I’m in good company. King Solomon, considered to be the “wisest of all men,” also loved funerals. He wrote: “It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting.” (Ecclesiastes 7:2)

When I hear children eulogize their parents I inevitably ask myself:

What will my children say about me at my funeral?

Am I living my life with total commitment to the value and ideals that I hold dear?

Am I the type of role model for my children that I yearn to be?

These feelings stir a healthy discontent within, creating a greater resolve and clarity to live with commitment to the principles and ideals that I want my children to remember me by.

The funeral I attended today was no different. My Uncle Burt was a prince of a man. His children and grandchildren recounted his life and inspired a raptured gathering with vignettes telling of commitment, hard-work, dedication to principles and values, love, and respect.

Again, I overheard myself asking myself, “Do I display this level of commitment to my values? Do I conduct myself with the same degree of professionalism and integrity as Burt did? Do I demonstrate the same level of love and respect as my dear uncle did?”

How will I be remembered?

Will my eulogizers have the luxury of choosing from an endless supply of anecdotes that illustrate my sterling character, like my cousins did yesterday when they lauded their father? Will they have a reservoir of examples of my spiritual and moral accomplishments to pick from? Or will they have to vie for the first speaking slot to insure that other’s don’t usurp their one or two classic stories about me?

Walking out of that cemetery this morning, I felt connected to the realization that life is short and fragile, and there is so much work to do. I need to live each day of my life as the person who I long to be remembered as.

I have never felt that at a wedding. King Solomon, I get it.

And how many times have you been to a funeral when you left kicking yourself for not having made a greater effort to get to know a person who could have taught you so much? And now, it’s too late.

We have so many gems in our midst. We squander too many opportunities to really become intimate with people who can impact us and help us to grow in so many ways.

I left the cemetery this morning with so many thoughts racing through my mind. One of them was: Who can I reach out to in my own extended family who will enrich my life and help me grow as a father, a husband, a man of integrity?

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About the Author

For more and more students in the Chicago area, Rabbi David is like a personal tour guide into the world of Jewish thought. He is passionate about elucidating timeless Jewish texts to the contemporary mind and leading each student on his or her own personal spiritual journey. His inspiring and insightful teaching style, coupled with his sense of humor and warm approach, has attracted hundreds of students since he began teaching on the North Shore 12 years ago. Rabbi David and Ali have five children, and currently reside in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where Rabbi David is a member of the Milwaukee Beit Din.

The opinions expressed in the comment section are the personal views of the commenters. Comments are moderated, so please keep it civil.

Visitor Comments: 12

(7)
Fayvel,
May 15, 2014 12:01 AM

Truism

Rabbi, your essay is lovely but states the obvious. As my mother-in-law used to say (in Yiddish) if you dance at weddings, you also cry at funerals.

(6)
Lisa,
May 14, 2014 2:14 PM

Shadenfreud?

I don't know about this one. Seems to me you can compare your life to others while they're alive. I'm having a hard time separating the ideas in this article from the concept of using another's misfortune, in this case death, to help yourself feel better. I've also found comparing ones life to another to be counter productive. We all know how we should behave and conduct our lives… should it take death to point this out? Not for me.

Anonymous,
May 14, 2014 3:17 PM

Not indicated in article

The author does not indicate a joy in attending funerals, but rather attaches a deep soul-searching opportunity to the event. We did not get the impression that the author enjoys the misfortune of others (G-d forbid!) as the term Schadenfreude suggests.We do not need to compare our lives to another's but we can try to learn by another's example.

(5)
Sheila Silver Halet,
May 12, 2014 5:01 PM

Graveside Private

I only want those who truly loved me to attend my funeral. I do not want the phony bologna people who left me out in life or pushed me away when I tried to be their friend to come and laud me after I am gone. Do it in life not death is my philosophy. After spending more then 45 years teaching Hebrew I tried to be a role model and good example to my students and their parents - as well. Ihave enough nice letters to read so I don't need all the stuff said when I am dead.

(4)
Lynne,
May 12, 2014 12:23 PM

My personal tour guide

Like my yetzer ra is my personal trainer, Rabbi David is, indeed, my personal tour guide to the Wonderful World of Torah. If you don't live in the Chicago or Milwaukee areas, find him online at www.lchaimcenter.org.

(3)
Anonymous,
May 11, 2014 4:20 PM

What about when it is the other way around? When a parent is saying goodbye to a child, when it is only unfulfilled dreams to be remembered? What do you say then?

CR,
May 11, 2014 8:36 PM

It is tragic, but carries many lessons.

Going to the funeral of a child is terribly sad and tragic. However, it still can help a person retain perspective that life is short and the time to accomplish, make changes, show love and appreciation is NOW - TODAY. Additionally, many children (some, even in illness) behaved in exemplary ways - at their funerals we can learn important, inspiring life lessons. And can ponder what will be said about us at our funeral. Aish posted a number of inspiring articles about Shoshie Stern, for example, a meaningful life cut short leaving us much to learn from her. All this does not diminish the pain of losing a child, but it does add meaning to the pain.

David Begoun,
May 12, 2014 12:09 AM

That is a very different situation and I should have made that distinction in the post. You are completely right. That type of funeral is all pain and grief. I am sorry for failing to mention that and I appreciate the comment very much. We should only have simchas.

(2)
David Rose,
May 11, 2014 3:10 PM

Don't worry about how you are remembered

I enjoyed your article but honestly it left me a little disappointed. Of course I'd like my kids to look back and say dad, he too was a prince.

But more importantly, I want Hashem to say David, welcome, prince.

I enjoy funerals. I enjoy them like you said as a way to achieve self examination. And I enjoy them as a way of saying goodbye to the departed. If I knew them, thank you for the time we had together. And if I didn't, accept my apologies for not making the time.

Anonymous,
May 12, 2014 12:11 AM

Point well taken. What the kids say about us is only the barometer of how we did. You are right, far more important is how Hashem greets us.

(1)
Anonymous,
May 11, 2014 11:47 AM

Nothing wrong with this article except the title. You may value/appreciate being able to attend for all you get out of them, but sorry, but no one should "love" going to funerals!

Anonymous,
May 12, 2014 12:13 AM

If the title had been "Why I Value Going to Funerals" would you have read it?

I've been striving to get more into spirituality. But it seems that every time I make some progress, I find myself slipping right back to where I started. I'm getting discouraged and feel like a failure. Can you help?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Spiritual slumps are a natural part of spiritual growth. There is a cycle that people go through when at times they feel closer to God and at times more distant. In the words of the Kabbalists, it is "two steps forward and one step back." So although you feel you are slipping, know that this is a natural process. The main thing is to look at your overall progress (over months or years) and be able to see how far you've come!

This is actually God's ingenious way of motivating us further. The sages compare this to teaching a baby how to walk. When the parent is holding on, the baby shrieks with delight and is under the illusion that he knows how to walk. Yet suddenly, when the parent lets go, the child panics, wobbles and may even fall.

At such times when we feel spiritually "down," that is often because God is letting go, giving us the great gift of independence. In some ways, these are the times when we can actually grow the most. For if we can move ourselves just a little bit forward, we truly acquire a level of sanctity that is ours forever.

Here is a practical tool to help pull you out of the doldrums. The Sefer HaChinuch speaks about a great principle in spiritual growth: "The external awakens the internal." This means that although we may not experience immediate feelings of closeness to God, eventually, by continuing to conduct ourselves in such a manner, this physical behavior will have an impact on our spiritual selves and will help us succeed. (A similar idea is discussed by psychologists who say: "Smile and you will feel happy.")

That is the power of Torah commandments. Even if we may not feel like giving charity or praying at this particular moment, by having a "mitzvah" obligation to do so, we are in a framework to become inspired. At that point we can infuse that act of charity or prayer with all the meaning and lift it can provide. But if we'd wait until being inspired, we might be waiting a very long time.

May the Almighty bless you with the clarity to see your progress, and may you do so with joy.

In 1940, a boatload 1,600 Jewish immigrants fleeing Hitler's ovens was denied entry into the port of Haifa; the British deported them to the island of Mauritius. At the time, the British had acceded to Arab demands and restricted Jewish immigration into Palestine. The urgent plight of European Jewry generated an "illegal" immigration movement, but the British were vigilant in denying entry. Some ships, such as the Struma, sunk and their hundreds of passengers killed.

If you seize too much, you are left with nothing. If you take less, you may retain it (Rosh Hashanah 4b).

Sometimes our appetites are insatiable; more accurately, we act as though they were insatiable. The Midrash states that a person may never be satisfied. "If he has one hundred, he wants two hundred. If he gets two hundred, he wants four hundred" (Koheles Rabbah 1:34). How often have we seen people whose insatiable desire for material wealth resulted in their losing everything, much like the gambler whose constant urge to win results in total loss.

People's bodies are finite, and their actual needs are limited. The endless pursuit for more wealth than they can use is nothing more than an elusive belief that they can live forever (Psalms 49:10).

The one part of us which is indeed infinite is our neshamah (soul), which, being of Divine origin, can crave and achieve infinity and eternity, and such craving is characteristic of spiritual growth.

How strange that we tend to give the body much more than it can possibly handle, and the neshamah so much less than it needs!